Secondly, some of the new clothes had already come home, and she was now wearing the tea-gown she had long dreamt of but had never aspired to possess. It was of a blue so dark as to be almost black, with a flame colored bar across the breast, harmonizing with her hair and eyes. Of her eyes she wasn’t thinking; but her hair....
That, however, was another part of the day’s fairy tale.
When the dresses had been bought and paid for madame presumed to Steptoe that mademoiselle was under some rich gentleman’s protection. Taking words at their face value, as she, Letty, did herself, Steptoe admitted that she was. Madam made it plain that she understood this honor, which often came to girls of the humblest classes, and the need there could be for supplementing wardrobes suddenly. After that it was confidence for confidence. Madame had seen that in the matter of lingerie mademoiselle “left to desire,” and though Margot made no specialty in 127 this line, they happened to have on an upper floor a consignment just arrived from Paris, and if monsieur would allow mademoiselle to come up and inspect it.... Then it was Madame Simone’s coiffeur. At least it was the coiffeur whom Madame Simone recommended, who came to the house, after Letty had donned a peignoir from the consignment just arrived from Paris.... And now, at half past nine in the evening, it was the memory of a day of mingled agony and enchantment.
Having looked her over as he summoned her to dinner, Steptoe had approved of her. He had approved of her with an inner emphasis stronger than he expressed. Letty didn’t know how she knew this; but she knew. She knew that her transformation was a surprise to him. She knew that though he had hoped much from her she was giving him more than he had hoped. Nothing that he said told her this, but something in his manner—in his yearning as he passed her the various dishes and tactfully showed her how to help herself, in the tenderness with which he repeated correctly her little slips in words—something in this betrayed it.
She knew it, too, when after dinner he begged her not to escape to the little back room, but to take her place in the drawing-room.
“Madam’ll find that it’ll pass the time for ’er. Maybe too Mr. Rashleigh’ll come in. ’E does sometimes—early like. I’ve known ’im to come ’ome by ’alf past nine, and if ’is ma wasn’t sittin’ in the drorin’ room ’e’d be quite put out. Lydies mostly wytes till their ’usbands comes in; and in cyse madam’d feel 128 lonely I’ll leave the door open to the back part of the ’ouse, and she’ll ’ear me talkin’ to the boys.”
The October evening being chilly he lit a fire. Drawing up in front of it a small armchair, suited for a lady’s use, he placed behind it a table with an electric lamp. Letty smiled up at him. He had never seen her smile before, and now that he did he made to himself another comment of approval.
“You’re awful good to me.”
He reflected as to how he could bring home to her the grammatical mistake.
“Madam finds me horfly good, does she? P’rhaps that’s because madam don’t know that ’er comin’ to this ’ouse gratifies a tyste o’ mine for which I ain’t never ’ad no gratificytion.”